


The Face That Lies and Hollow Eyes

by NightMereBear



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26205370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightMereBear/pseuds/NightMereBear
Summary: Escaping Baron Dominic was not going to be easy. Doing so at a masquerade ball hosted by Cornelia Arnim would be even less so. But if Annette has any intention of reuniting with her friends for the Millenium Festival, she doesn't have much choice.Now she must search amongst the masks to find the mysterious messenger sent to help her escape, all while avoiding her uncle's watchful eye. As if this was not challenging enough, an ominous stranger has slithered out from the shadows; one with a keen interest in Annette but whose true intentions remain as mysterious as the masquerade itself.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34
Collections: Felannie Mini Bang 2020





	The Face That Lies and Hollow Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! This work was done for the Felannie Discord Server's Felannie Mini Bang!! I had the honor of working with [ Shamanium ](https://twitter.com/shamanium45) on this project! You shall see her beautiful, BEAUTIFUL artwork below!!! Please go check out her stuff, she is a rockstar! Now....without further ado....I bring you our Masquerade!!! :D

Cornelia Arnim, High Sorceress of the Faerghus Dukedom, had decided to throw a ball.

Not just any ball, a _masquerade_ ball, and from the moment Annette stepped through the lavish double doors and into the ballroom proper, she knew it would be unlike anything she had ever attended before.

Her first impression was that Cornelia had gotten ‘masquerade’ and ‘circus’ confused—what with the menagerie of actors, tumblers, and musicians in attendance, their costumes twinkling like lost stars on their way to the heavens. Bright swathes of cloth looped across the ceiling while acrobats dangled beneath on ribbons of dyed silk, their bodies contorted so miraculously they hardly seemed to have bones at all. 

Then there were the guests themselves. If Annette had thought the decorations were extravagant, they were nothing compared to the assembled nobles. Iridescent skirts with more sheen than a peacock's plumage blossomed from fitted waistlines, while sparkling brooches and elegant pins captured the candlelight and reflected it in prismatic patterns across the floor. There were embroidered corsets and sweeping cloaks. Silk cravats and sequined capes. Gowns that burst with color and jackets so black they might have been sewn from shadow.

And then there were the masks.

Everywhere Annette looked there were masks that glared and masks that grinned. Feathered masks and gilded masks. Monochromatic masks and masks so weighted with gems it was a miracle their wearers could lift their heads at all.

These in particular made Annette’s stomach turn. Hardly a breath away, the Dukedom’s poor starved to death in the streets while these people spent a noble’s fortune on a face covering. But she couldn’t focus on that. Not tonight. Not when every carefully laid plan she had made hinged on avoiding distraction. If she wanted to help the Kingdom’s people, she had to help herself first and that began with getting to the Millenium Festival. All she had to do was find Ingrid's messenger.

Whoever that happened to be.

This would be easier said than done as, thus far, Baron Dominic had remained so close to her side that he was beginning to feel like an awkward elbow ornament. Every time a costumed performer so much as glanced in Annette's direction her uncle would glare until they went away, gripping her arm so tightly she feared she’d lose feeling altogether.

“Completely unprecedented,” he would mutter to himself. “Unsavory characters. Is this a masquerade or a circus?”

Where the other party guests were all colored silks and feathered extravagance, Baron Dominic was muted grays and faded whites. His mask was a simple thing of black satin with no adornments to behold, hardly more than a strip of cloth resting against his eyes. Annette had donned a corseted dress with white lace and blue frills, her mask delicate cobalt with silver embellishments and an accent of peacock feathers that sprouted like wings around her ears.

“Uncle,” she began, drawing the baron’s gaze away from a man with a gem-encrusted hilt protruding from his mouth.

“Yes, Annette?” he replied, sparing another glance for the sword swallower and scowling in disapproval.

“Um, I just wanted to say that I appreciate your concern,” she began, "but you’re kind of scaring away all my dance partners.”

While this was true, it wasn’t the absence of dancing that Annette actually bemoaned, but the fact that her uncle was clinging to her like a bee to a succulent flower. If this behavior continued, she would never be able to shake him long enough to locate the messenger.

Baron Dominic frowned and glanced about uncomfortably.

“I understand your frustration, Annette, but this is not a regular ball. I do not relish the idea of leaving you alone with these…less than savory characters.” His eyes darted again to the sword swallower before returning to his niece. “While I appreciate Lady Cornelia’s generosity in inviting us—given your connection to the Kingdom rebels—I have found that my opinion of propriety differs greatly from her own.” Annette ignored the spark of pain that flared to life at the mention of her friends, hiding her grimace behind a patient smile as she rested gloved fingers on his arm.

“And I understand that, Uncle. But not everyone here is wearing tiger stripes,” she told him, her eyes drifting to one such performer whose graceful stride was every bit as feline as the ensemble that he wore. Baron Dominic sighed, the slump of his shoulders pronouncing his resignation before his words did.

“...Very well,” he said at last. “I will leave you alone for the moment. Just keep your wits about you. There is something about all this that does not sit right with me.” 

On this at least, Annette found they agreed. While she wasn’t entirely surprised by Cornelia's unique tastes, there was something about this party that teetered on the edge of sinister. Perhaps it was the masks that grinned just a little too widely or the dark-robed figures she’d seen amongst the crowd, standing out like gravestones in a bed of autumnal leaves. Or maybe it was the sickly-sweet smell that hovered over Annette like moisture on a humid day, filling her head with fog and making her feel like she could float right off the floor if she desired. 

Annette gave her head a shake. She needed to focus.

“I’ll be fine, Uncle,” she promised, then promptly waggled her fingers at him. “Trained mage, remember?”

This, at last, coaxed a smile from his lips. “I remember,” he responded. “And I’ll be close by if you need me.”

“Of course!” she responded brightly, waving as he wandered away. “Of course,” she mumbled again once he was swallowed by the crowd. Having her uncle lurking about like an overprotective shadow was bound to complicate things, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it. For the time being she needed to find the messenger, a task made infinitely more difficult by the fact that she had no idea what they looked like. ‘You’ll know them when you see them,’ Ingrid’s letter had said. Of course, ambiguity was the point at a function like this. Nobody here was looking to recognize anyone else. That was part of the fun. Still, Annette wished she had _something_ to go off of. Like what color they'd be wearing or if their mask had a particular theme.

She gnawed on her lip, deciding that, at least for now, it might be prudent to stand by something distinct. Something that would make it easy for the messenger to spot her. Yet trying to find something eye-catching in a room full of eye-catching things was like trying to find the brightest bit of color on a stained glass window. Annette was still trying to decide when she felt a sudden, unexpected tap on her shoulder and she whirled around, hoping that perhaps the messenger had located her after all!

Her smile faltered the slightest amount.

Ingrid’s letter had said she would know them when she saw them, but Annette did not recognize this person at all.

It was a man with broad shoulders and a lean waist, both attributes that were emphasized by long, fitted black robes. His mask was a sinister thing, all sharp lines and tight coils, complete with onyx horns that curled upward from the rim, and a grinning skull that rested directly in the center. His skin was almost translucently pale, as much a stranger to the sun as a snowflake was to summer. His eyes seemed to reflect shadows the way other people’s reflected light and the moment they settled on Annette, she was struck with the urge to get as far from him as possible.

“Annette Dominic… It is a pleasure.”

The man spoke in a voice of chocolate and poison, simultaneously soothing and repellent. Somehow, Annette managed to garner a response.

“I’m sorry...have we met before?” she asked. The man’s smirk crawled further across his face.

“No,” he answered shortly. “I am called Myson and I have heard a lot about you.”

Annette blinked. “You have?”

“Oh yes,” the man—Myson—responded. “You have quite the reputation.”

“I…um. Wow. I’m not really sure what to say to that,” Annette stammered. “Thank you, I guess.”

A single violin peeled above the crowd in a drawn-out fermata, the piercing note emphasizing the silence that stretched between Annette and this man. It was a loaded silence, one she could feel as keenly as the sweat collecting on her palms. Her heart beat once. Twice. Three times.

“Honor me with a dance, won’t you Miss Dominic?” Myson purred suddenly, extending a hand.

“Oh, I’m not sure—” Annette began, but he was already leading her to the dancefloor and her traitorous feet could do nothing but stumble behind. 

It was infinitely warmer amongst the dancing couples—quite the contrast to Myson’s hands which were somehow cold despite the muggy ballroom. Annette could feel their chill through the fabric of her gloves. It was unnerving. Like dancing with a corpse. At that moment, she almost regretted sending her uncle away.

The orchestra hit a dramatic beat and Myson spun her into him, keeping perfect time with the music. Annette might have been pleased with her partner's skill if she wasn’t so convinced that she was dancing with a snake.

“Lady Cornelia has heard of your aptitude for Reason,” the man observed after a moment. His voice was hardly more than a murmur and yet somehow, Annette caught every word. He had a way of speaking that seemed to bend all sound in the room, minimizing idle chatter while amplifying his own words.

“I…I don’t know about that,” Annette began uncomfortably, doing her best not to trip over her heels. She was far too distracted to focus on proper footwork. Myson on the other hand, moved with a grace that was almost eerie in its perfection.

“So modest,” he said with a flash of white teeth. “But you were the top of your class at the School of Sorcery, were you not? And the darling of the Blue Lions if the rumors are to be believed.”

Annette’s heart twisted in her chest. “That was a long time ago,” she said quietly, then bit back a yelp as she was caught in an abrupt dip. Myson stared down at her, the skull on his mask glinting red in the candlelight.

“Not so long ago, I think,” he responded before pulling her upright again. Annette pressed her lips together, her heart pounding in time to the orchestra’s driving rhythm. “When we are done here,” Myson continued, leading Annette in a rhythmic back step. “Lady Cornelia would like to make you a proposal. Gifts like yours could be of great benefit to our cause.” 

Annette missed a step.

Not the Dukedom’s cause. Not even the Empire’s cause.

_Our cause._

Who was this man?

She tried to think of an appropriate response—or any response for that matter—but her throat had closed up and she was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. She felt like a mouse that had accidentally burrowed its way into a viper’s nest.

“Miss Dominic?” Myson asked. “Are you alright?”

Annette hadn’t even realized that she’d stopped dancing.

“I-I think I need some air,” she said, moving as far from the man as his grip on her would allow.

“Allow me to escort you.”

“No, that’s okay. I can escort myself.”

Annette pulled away so abruptly that she stumbled into the person behind her and she might have toppled over completely had they not caught her hand with their own. Annette was halfway through a hasty apology when she glanced up and the words died in her throat.

The mask he wore hid most of his face—but those glittering amber eyes! That sweep of dark hair! Those lips that turned down at the edges, as if disapproving of the world and everything in it.

_‘You’ll know them when you see them.’_

Annette had never known anything more surely in her life.

“Miss Dominic, if you would just allow me to—”

“I believe the lady said she could escort herself.”

Five years had done little to soften the tongue of Felix Hugo Fraldarius.

A charged silence settled over the three as Myson turned toward the new arrival. He did not look annoyed by the interruption, merely intrigued. As though Felix was an unexpected variable that had just appeared in his experiment.

“And who might you be?” the man asked slowly.

“That is none of your concern,” Felix answered, his hand tightening on Annette. Myson did not seem put off. On the contrary, he took a step closer and cocked his head to the side.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before." He spoke with a dangerous intrigue, like a cobra roused by the notes of a charmer’s flute.

“It’s a big room,” Felix answered.

“Hmm,” Myson responded. “Yet not so big, I think.”

A shiver ran down Annette's spine as Myson's ink-black eyes shifted back to her and he relinquished a smile that was all sharp edges.

“Did you have any more business here?”

Felix’s voice cut through Annette’s darkening thoughts, the warmth of his hand anchoring her to reality. She gave it a grateful squeeze. 

“Perhaps,” Myson responded, his eyes still on Annette. “But I shall take my leave for now.”

And then he slithered away, vanishing into the crowd so abruptly it was like the shadows themselves had swallowed him up.

Annette released a breath, relief at the man’s departure making her knees weak.

“…Are you alright?”

Or perhaps the young man beside her was to blame.

Felix’s hand was still on her arm and the warmth of it was doing wonders to nullify the chill Myson had left behind. 

“I’m okay,” she responded quietly, still caught between disbelief and elation that he was here at all. “But…what are you doing here?”

He gave her an odd look. “What do you mean ‘what am I doing here?’ You knew I was coming,” he responded, releasing her hand. 

“I knew _someone_ was coming,” Annette responded. “I didn’t know it would be you!”

“Are you upset?”

“What!? No, of course not!”

Heat bloomed across Annette’s cheeks as the words spilled from her lips and she took advantage of the silence that followed to keenly observe a scuff on her toe. Felix rubbed the back of his neck. 

“So…who was that man?” he asked, changing the subject and fixing Annette with an inquiring stare.

“...I’m not sure,” Annette responded. “His said his name was Myson and that Cornelia wanted to speak with me.” Felix’s expression darkened but Annette flashed him a reassuring grin. "It’s okay! I mean, you found me, didn’t you? Before things got too out of hand.”

She thought he smiled, but the expression was gone so quickly it was hard to say for sure. Perhaps it had merely been a trick of the shadows cast beneath his mask.

“I did,” he responded quietly. “It’s…good to see you, Annette.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “It’s good to see you too.”

It was more than good to see him, but Annette didn’t fully trust her aptitude for speech at the moment so she left it at that. There were so many things she wanted to ask him. Why he was here for one, and why he hadn’t sent someone a little less well known to receive her. The risk he was taking made her want to grab his hand and race away from the masquerade’s garish colors and elaborate masks.To find somewhere safe where they could speak freely. She wanted to know what he’d been doing these last five years. She’d heard things of course—though any information had mostly consisted of curt statements made by her uncle, meant to be informative and not consoling. Written correspondence had been all but impossible as House Dominic had fallen under Cornelia’s jurisdiction as any letters discovered between Annette and House Fraldarius would surely have been considered treasonous.

And yet standing here, surrounded by those loyal to Cornelia and the Dukedom, Annette knew that she could not ask any of the questions weighing down the tip of her tongue. Making small talk with Felix when so much lay between them felt ridiculous, but it would have to do. At least until they were well away from this place and out from under Cornelia’s oppressive thumb.

Annette looked at Felix, at his calculating eyes as they skimmed the room and the tense set of his shoulders beneath his cloak. It had been a long time since Annette had stood beside him and even with her boots giving her a boost, she still had to crane her neck to see him properly. It was oddly refreshing that despite everything that had changed in the past five years, this at least had remained the same.

Felix’s eyes slid to hers and she flushed to have been caught staring. 

“What?” he asked.

“Oh, um—” Annette began, though she froze as a movement in her peripherals caught her eye. Carefully she turned her head. Baron Dominic was making his way in their direction, his head swiveling from side to side as he scanned the crowd, seemingly searching for something. Annette had a very good idea of what that ‘something’ might be. She glanced away before their eyes could meet. 

“Let’s go,” she hissed, reclaiming Felix’s hand and pulling him toward a set of double doors that lead to Cornelia’s extravagant gardens. The last thing Annette wanted was her uncle getting too good a look at the young man accompanying her.

“What’s going on?” Felix asked, allowing Annette to pull him forward but casting several confused glances over his shoulder.

“My uncle,” Annette muttered in response. “Let’s go somewhere else for a while.”

…

Felix hadn’t thought that anything in Cornelia’s manor could be considered pleasant, but her gardens proved him wrong. The sky above them was cloudless, the stars a welcome contrast to the wall of colored smoke that had begun to accumulate beneath the ballroom's ceiling. Out here, the air was as clear as polished glass and Felix inhaled it greedily, each breath like drops of water on a parched man’s lips. Somewhere out in the maze of hedges, a single violinist was playing, their music combining with the moonlight in a way that might have been charming had he been anywhere else.

But not here. Not with Cornelia and a ballroom full of enemies behind him.

Annette did not let go of his hand as they made their way down the stairs and onto the pristine paths that wound through the gardens like a snake with cobblestone scales. There were a handful of other couples out amongst the flowers, though none of them cast Felix or Annette a second glance. Still, it wasn’t until they wandered into an enclosed courtyard that Annette finally slowed down. Perhaps she had deemed them far enough from her uncle, or perhaps she just wanted to admire the scenery. 

A fountain was erected in the middle of the enclosure, depicting a woman with her head bowed over a book. Its faded stone and worn edges suggested considerable age, but the water that splashed in the basin did so with youthful exuberance. Beautifully manicured hedges burst with crimson blossoms that rustled in the breeze, while a line of glowing lamps diligently shed light into corners just missed by the moon. Everything about this place cast the illusion of solitude, but Felix didn’t trust the calm for a second. There were still other party guests out amongst the flowers. Still guards performing their rounds. He would have to maintain a closely guarded tongue. 

Annette turned to face him, releasing his hand and leaving a regretful tingling sensation where her fingers had been. He cleared his throat, trying to focus on anything but her gently curling hair or the fact that time had been unfairly kind to her in the years that had elapsed. His eyes landed on the thin iron bars that bordered the garden’s perimeter, each tip sharpened into a cruel point that gleamed ominously in the moonlight. If Felix and Annette ran into trouble, they would not be escaping that way.

“Not the most strategic escape route,” he said quietly, nodding to the fence. “These plants are just as much prisoners here as we are.”

Annette cast a quick glance around them, clearly just as wary about being overheard as Felix himself.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I was avoiding my uncle.”

The corner of Felix’s lips lifted in a wry smile. “Well let’s hope he didn’t follow us,” he murmured. “Because now we’re trapped.”

“Well, we couldn’t just bolt for the door!” Annette hissed. “My uncle would have seen us and how suspicious would _that_ have been?! But if he spotted us heading out here, he’ll just think I’m taking a stroll with a handsome nobleman. It’s a perfectly logical thing for a woman to do at a ball!”

Felix cocked a brow. “Handsome, huh?” he repeated, the word slipping out before he could stop it. He wasn’t Sylvain. He didn’t need to fish for compliments. Annette was just so easy to fluster, he hadn’t been able to help himself. Sure enough, the girl’s shoulders shot toward her ears, her small hands curling into fists as her eyes darted around the courtyard, looking anywhere but at him.

“Did I say handsome?” she squeaked. “I meant…villainous! Or—wait—rogueish! No, that’s just stupid. Ugh, keep it together Annette!”

Felix was not entirely sure if she was still speaking to him, or if her passionate diatribe had caused her to forget he was there at all. He was not typically a nostalgic person, but the familiarity of the whole thing brought a tiny smile to his lips—a smile that did not go undetected by Annette. Her blue eyes snapped to his and she glared at him with a defiance he had seen a thousand times before.

“What are you smiling about, Fel—”

He darted forward, pressing a hand over her mouth before his name could fully leave her lips. She stiffened, her eyes widening anxiously. Several heartbeats passed as they waited, ears craned for any hint that someone might be listening. Yet all they heard was the lonely violin, singing its song to the stars. Carefully, Felix lowered his hand. Annette immediately lifted her own, hiding her lips behind it.

“I am so sorry,” she breathed. “I wasn’t—I just—I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Felix responded. He couldn’t blame her. For a moment he too had forgotten where they were. Being with Annette…it brought him back to a different time. A different place. It had been all too easy to look at her and forget—just for a moment—that they were at war. That everything was not as it should be in the world.

Annette had fallen silent, likely still berating herself for the near slip. Felix hesitated, wishing he had Ingrid’s grace when it came to comforting others, or Sylvain’s knack for making people laugh. But in the end, he was simply himself and he stood there fishing for words like a sailor casting a line in a barren sea.

It was almost a relief to hear a peal of girlish laughter rise into the air as it gave Felix something else to focus on. He lifted his head, glancing in the direction the laughter had come from. He could see nothing over the wall of hedges, but the sound of voices was definitely drawing closer.

“…most adorable little courtyard. Wait ‘til you see it! It’s absolutely _stunning!”_

Now he could hear the footsteps that accompanied the voices—the light clip of a woman’s heels and the weighted stride of heavy boots. Felix tensed, wishing that they had entered a courtyard with two entrances instead of one. It wasn’t like standing here was in itself suspicious, but the fewer people he had to speak with, the better. It was impossible to say who might recognize the Fraldarius heir. Perhaps the approaching couple would be too enraptured with the little courtyard to take note of the people already standing inside. Felix didn’t like leaving such things to chance, but he wasn’t sure what other option they had.

That was when Annette stepped toward him and the next thing Felix knew she had laced their fingers together, her small body pressed so closely to his he thought he could feel her heart beating. Or perhaps it was merely the echo of his own.

“Annette what—” he began, but she shook her head.

“Dance with me,” she whispered. “People always feel uncomfortable witnessing, um, _intimate_ moments that aren't theirs.” She nodded in the direction of the courtyard entrance and the footsteps that were almost upon them. “Hopefully they'll see us and go away.” 

Felix didn’t have much choice but to comply. He did his best to mimic the way Annette was swaying, staring down at her and feeling as though all the fires of Ailell had moved into his cheeks. Even so, he couldn't help this feeling of being drawn to her—to her eyes as blue as storm-tossed waves and twice as fierce.

A small, almost shy smile tugged at Annette's lips, one he found himself returning.

“You see?! Isn’t this just—oh!”

Felix didn’t bother to look up as the couple stepped into the courtyard and halted just outside the row of hedges. Annette’s hands tensed and Felix unconsciously held them tighter. They fit so snugly within his own, their warmth reassuring in a way he hadn’t expected. He was almost glad for an excuse to pull her closer. To ignore everything except the woman before him and the oceans she held in her eyes.

“Let's come back later,” the man whispered. “That fountain doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere.”

His partner sniffed in disappointment but retreated anyway, and the pair soon vanished behind a wall of manicured shrubs.

The danger had passed, but Felix did not move.

It had been five years since he had seen Annette. Five years without her sweet song. He could not count the number of times he had found himself listening for it, only to remember that Annette was not there and that her absence meant the absence of music and her melody was waiting on the other side of a war. Every time this happened he would steal away to his room and brace for a battle of parchment and ink. Yet eloquence had always made for an elusive opponent and as the ashes in Felix's fireplace had mounted, so had his frustration.

Then had come the news of Dominic falling under Cornelia's shadow, and on that day, Felix had given up entirely.

Now here she was, literally within arms’ reach, and seeing her again was like taking his first breath after years spent underwater. She was close enough that Felix could see each speck of firelight that danced in her eyes, and smell the sweet strawberry that lingered in her hair. He stood there, captivated by the song that was Annette Fantine Dominic and feeling that, until this moment, he hadn’t known what music was at all. 

And then Annette was on her tiptoes and he was leaning toward her and everything was happening so quickly that Felix’s rational mind could not keep up. All he knew was that he wanted this and he wanted her and his heart was unfolding like a flower starved of five years without the sun. 

“Annette?”

And then it all came crashing down.

The two broke apart so quickly that Annette would have tumbled into the fountain had Felix not been there to catch her, and as he turned toward the voice, all the rational thought that he’d been keeping at bay finally caught up.

Baron Dominic stood at the entrance to the courtyard, his mask a dark smudge across his eyes, his lips heavy with disapproval.

“Uncle!” Annette exclaimed. She clutched Felix’s hand in a painfully tight grip and tried for a smile. “Did you need some fresh air too?”

The baron was silent, his eyes traveling from Annette to Felix and back again. It was taking every ounce of Felix’s self-control to keep his hand from his sword hilt, a gesture that would undoubtedly have come across as threatening. 

“I wanted to check on you, Annette,” Baron Dominic said. “The ballroom is a crowded place but I thought I’d come across you eventually. You can imagine my concern when I did not.” His eyes drifted to Felix and narrowed in an expression of pure scrutiny. “It would seem this young man is to blame.” The baron stepped into the courtyard, his gaze still fixed on Felix. Felix stared back, doing his best to maintain a casual posture despite how fast his heart was pounding. Blood rushed into his veins, filling Felix with a familiar sense of adrenaline. His fingers twitched. He took a breath. 

“I do not believe we have met,” Baron Dominic said, his voice a little too innocent. “You are clearly doing a commendable job keeping my niece company. I was not aware she would have such close acquaintances in attendance this evening.”

“He only asked me to dance, Uncle,” Annette responded, piping up before Felix could respond. She stepped forward, as if in doing so she might block Felix from view. This was an admirable gesture if not a futile one. Annette had not grown an inch in the past five years.

“Hmm,” was the baron’s only response.

“Why don’t we go back inside?” Annette suggested. “There were some pastries that looked really tasty!” Unfortunately, Annette had never been a good liar. There was an airiness to her words that was only present when she was uncomfortable, a fact Baron Dominic seemed fully aware of. He ignored his niece, his gaze sliding back to Felix.

“What did you say your name was again?”

There was no doubt in Felix’s mind that the baron already knew the answer.

“I didn’t,” Felix answered shortly.

Then he struck.

In two swift motions, he had pulled Annette aside and curled his fist into an explosive uppercut that sent the baron toppling into the hedge. The impact released a flurry of crimson petals that shot into the air, contrasting with the moon like rubies on teardrop-pale skin. They floated back to the ground with a sleepy sort of leisure, as if nothing worth noting had happened. As if the man beneath them wasn’t unconscious at all.

Annette’s mouth had fallen open but Felix had no time to dwell on what he’d just done. They weren’t alone in this garden after all. Someone was going to stumble across the baron eventually, it was only a matter of time.

“We have to move.”

He grabbed Annette’s hand and pulled her toward the exit. This was not at all how he’d planned the evening to go, but the baron hadn’t given him much of a choice. Fortunately, Annette did not protest as she fell into step beside him, though she did manage a last, sparing glance for her uncle as they left the courtyard behind.

The pair moved with a haste that belied the night’s tranquility, making for the double doors with an urgency that bordered on reckless. Annette had to take two steps for every one of Felix’s, and he kept a steady hand on her lest she trip over her layered skirts. They had just crested the stairs when Annette suddenly yanked on Felix’s hand, pulling him to an abrupt halt.

“What is it?” he asked, casting an impatient glance toward the doors.

“You look like you’re about to fight someone,” Annette said pointedly. Felix almost stated that—given the circumstances—he probably _was_ about to fight someone, but managed to swallow the words in time to hear what she had to say. “If we charge in there, everyone is going to know that something happened. We’ll draw too much attention! We need to breathe and try our best to look natural or things are going to get out of hand really fast.”

She was right, of course.

True, his nerves were wound tighter than a coiled spring, but that was no excuse to charge inside like a half-crazed wyvern. Surely, he was more disciplined than that. A room full of people still stretched between them and freedom, and somewhere inside it, Cornelia lurked like a shark amongst minnows. If they ran into her, he had little doubt that she would recognize him, mask or no mask. 

It was with this thought in mind that he tried to arrange his features into something neutral, a task easier said than done if Annette’s snort was any indication.

“…You still look angry.”

“This is how I always look.”

“No, it’s not. Try to look like you’re enjoying yourself. You know, smile?”

“I’m doing my best.”

Felix attempted a grin through gritted teeth. Annette immediately winced.

“Um, never mind. That’s terrifying.” She hummed anxiously, glancing from Felix, to the doors, and back again. “I don’t know! Just…try to look how any nobleman would look after going for a moonlit stroll with his…um… _lover.”_

She practically whispered the word.

Felix’s mouth fell open as color rose to his cheeks. 

“What!?” he spluttered.

“Oh, that’s _much_ closer! Let’s go!”

And before Felix could protest, Annette had looped her arm through his and pulled open the door.

…

_My heart is going to give us away._

The thought whispered through Annette’s head, each word a sea of anxiety that flooded her insides and cracked the porcelain smile on her face. For all her talk of maintaining calm, her heart continued to pound in her chest with the urgency of a war drum.

Felix, at least, was keeping his composure. His expression remained its usual shade of stoic and he moved with an easy grace that Annette could only envy. Next to him, she felt like a marionette on the strings of a novice puppeteer—each movement she made stiff and unnatural. Any minute now she was sure they were going to hear the alarmed shouts of whichever noble had stumbled upon her uncle, demanding that the masquerade be shut down until they found the ones responsible. She imagined Cornelia’s soldiers flooding the place. The great doors slamming closed and locking them inside.

Annette bit her lip, trying to wrangle her thoughts into line before they could get away from her. She had to focus on what she could do now. On the next steps. And yet, despite everything, there was a small part of Annette’s mind that was still out in the garden. She stole a glance at Felix, at his amber eyes so focused on the door. Thinking about him, about what had almost happened in the courtyard…it helped to stifle her rising anxiety.

Annette turned away before he could catch her staring and almost walked directly into a woman who had just stepped out in front of her. A woman with curling hair, a reptilian mask, and a sensuous dress that clung generously to every curve.

Annette froze as the woman fixed her with a venomous smile. 

Cornelia had found her at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo okay I hope you guys enjoyed that! I'll get chapter two up as soon as I can between other projects and a full time job >< Again, please check out [ Shamanium's ](https://twitter.com/shamanium45) art!! I have a [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/NightMereBear) myself if you guys are interested in more art/writing fun :)
> 
> Shamanium, working with you was a blast!! Thank you so much for your gorgeous art!! It was such an inspiration :D <3 <3


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